


ravel and other contronyms

by too_wise_to_woo_peaceably



Series: RebelCaptainPrompts [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/too_wise_to_woo_peaceably/pseuds/too_wise_to_woo_peaceably
Summary: rebelcaptain prompt #17: tangled





	ravel and other contronyms

When Jyn was thirteen she fell out of a tree. It was not a pretty sight. Laying there, limbs tangled, breathless lungs, heart-in-mouth, ears buzzing, eyes skyward as twigs and leaves shower down lightly to catch up. (“You’re in shock.”)

She wasn’t found at first, her comm crushed to pieces, digging into her spine (If only she hadn’t made a desperate fumble for it when it fell from nerveless fingers). But Saw’s people could be methodical when they wished. And ironically, her typically nimble fingers are what made them realize their deft digit teenage bomb maker was missing. Though they really should have expected it. Nothing good comes from telling someone over comlink that her favorite tía Aleja, guerrilla instructor extraordinaire, had been blown to bits, body twisted and shredded and gnarled. It will take years for Jyn to stop flinching at “tía”.

 

* * *

 

Years later she is sprawled again on her back. This time it’s on a shared bunk in cold, dim quarters and she’s not quite sure why she hasn’t asked before.

“Do you have any family left?” The question is a thin stream of sound. She feels Cassian’s grip on their interlaced fingers tighten with surprise, then loosen slowly as he continues to inspect her knuckles carefully. Her other hand’s nails rasp against his scalp, a motion meant to sooth.

“Maybe,” he answers quietly. Silence stretches for a long moment before,“my tía--”

Her breath barely hitches but her heart stutters for a long second. (she finally managed to stop visibly flinching a few years ago, but while her face might listen, she’s always had a wild heart). She knows he can feel it with his head pillowed on her chest; he can feel her every reaction (he’s a spy, he could probably have guessed many of her reactions even if he hadn’t had such a direct physiological measure). His fingers don’t falter, and she feels his warm breath, and a hint of lips at the scrapes and bruises. When her heart takes up its normal rhythm he continues.

“We called her tía Aurélia. She was my mother’s sister.”

Contented silence envelops them once more. Long minutes pass and her eyelids are growing heavy. Her deft digits trawl long slow passes in his hair. She can feel his low hum as he gently kneads her hand.

“Tell me more?” Her murmured request is met with thoughtful quiet.

“You remind me of her. Strong. Full of fire and ire.” She bares her teeth jokingly, and a small grin blooms on his face, before he turns his attention back to her hand. “Her work with the Partisans brought my family to the Empire’s attention.” Jyn tries not to flinch again. She knows what happened to his family. She sees the variation on a theme in her own families -- both born into, and adopted. “But she is also most of the reason I am alive today.”

Jyn decides she can forgive her then. As long as he’s alive.

“Go back to sleep, Jyn. I’ll be here whether you dream of your tía again or not.”

She knows he will. She sleeps.


End file.
